dont walk away from me saying i deserve better


'we accept the love we think we deserve'

you were the treasure
   at the end of the rainbow.
      The rainbow dispelling hope after the storm.
            The storm that quenched the drought.
               the drought that birthed the thirst.
                  The thirst that craved a companion.
                     The companion who led the way.
                        The way that never was.

Okay okay okay
I admit it
I’m jealous

Of the sun’s rays
That kiss your face
Before I ever can.

Of the tissues that wipe away
Your tears gently, the way
I never can.

Of the mirror that  glimpses
Shadows of doubt; your eclipses
That I’ll never see.

Of the ones that bring a smile
To your lips, someone I’ll
Never be.

rioting butterflies
when i see you  s  m  i  l  e ,
you forgo an inch
and i conquer a mile

The chapters you live in are pages I visit often
The novel of my life is indexed by your name.
Dog eared, bookmarked, frayed at the edges
Memories I keep (re)turning to
Some shabbily hastily taped back
Ripped out in fury, the need to forget
All consuming
And yet
I put them back
Slowly
Deliberately
Smoothing out the wrinkles
Relishing the agony to remember
To cherish the love not too long ago
The roses you gave me
Pressed against these pages
sweetness wafting
pervading my senses
mingling with a whiff of your salty aftertaste
******* the pages like they conceal
fragments of you within their folds
forever on my bedside table and in my dreams
you reappear,
the protagonist of a story that never belonged to you.

the truth will break you.

If love were a flower, would she bloom wild from the recesses of my soul?
If love were a jigsaw, would she craft the shards to heal me whole?

If love were a sapling, would she root, in soil and rain to be a mighty tree?
If love were a cloud, would her invigorating elixir breathe new life into me?
                                        
If love were fire, would she char my insides and from the ashes birth a phoenix?
If love were a tsunami, would plunging headfirst be worth the risk?

If love were a Volcano, would it erupt violently, then subside into dormancy?
If love were a Desert, would it’s heat drive away travelers, but staying reward sanctuary?

If love were a River, would it harbor my life towards another direction?
If love were the sun, would it pull me closer just to watch me burn?

you say i dont write
anymore. youre right.
so here's a little something
about how i cant think of anything
except the uncontrollable
beating of my highly unstable
heart that races unabashedly
every single time i see
you turn back to look.
read me like an open book.
i cant help but stare.
when you catch me unaware
I'm blushing like you didnt notice
the lovesick and utterly hopeless
romantic you dont know me to be.
its a fairytale I want, this fantasy.
I'm obsessed fairly possessed
wishing youre maybe impressed
and realize I'm the special someone
you've been looking for since day 1
i can only write love poetry these days
i dont fully comprehend this phase
yet ; utter perplexity. do you realize
I'm drowning within your ocean eyes?
do you too feel this way when you find
me aching to know whats on your mind?
whats taking you so long why cant you believe
that my darling we were always meant to be.

love's a distant relative
dropping in uninvited
murmuring condolences for a girl I thought I buried away
eons ago.

You smell like riptides upon a fathomless sea, elusive waves that never cross, beckoning me closer.

You smell of exotic beaches on travel catalogues; the ones unexplored, untouched, unique. The ones not treaded upon, inviting and innocent.

You smell like the lighthouses on deserted rocks, leading me home, guiding me safely to shore and to you, slighting the storms; unwavering, trustworthy.

You smell like the seaside of my childhood; familiar, nostalgic, the ones I can traverse with my eyes closed. Land I trust and know like the back of our hands entwined.

                       You smell like salt and the ocean
                          Love upon the unending sea
                    Scents of cinnamon, fire, setting suns
                          You smell like home to me.

love is what if-

love, what is if?

what if love is....

what is love if;

is love what if ?

childhood was                                                      teenage is
empty schoolbags                                          suitcases full of textbooks
full tummies                                                   empty stomachs
empty heads                                                   overstuffed brains
board games                                                   board exams
hours of tic-tac-toe                                         hours of texting
2 minute fights                                               2 minute friendships
too many questions                                       too many answers
wanting to grow up                                       wanting to go back

Your eyes are black, tinged with blushes of hazel when the sun falls on your face. I’ve never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them. Your hair is a mess like you got up on the wrong side of the bed but you still manage to pull off adorable every **** time. Your dimple makes special appearances when you laugh on random things I say. Your jawline I know you’re proud of; something I would trace with kisses and warm fingertips, sharp and smooth, so alluring. You’re the perfect kinda tall; our lips collide effortlessly and anyway I would go any limit for you. Our hands intertwine perfectly, you can see we were made for each other. I confess I don’t remember telling your mom in kindergarten you were so cute but I’m glad I did; truer words have never been said. Falling for you was beautiful; you were the stars at the end of my tunnel. You light up my world with fairy lights and gentle kisses and dreams of a future together.  I never knew I could blush before you. You wink like a ******* Prince Charming if there ever was one. ‘I love you’ has never felt inadequate before.

And I will remember the way your favourite colour
Isn’t blue
Or even red
But a royal Purple
And how your hands are
On fire when
I'm freezing and numb
How you envelop them warmly
In yours and
How we know thats an excuse
To touch…
I wont forget how I read to you
Children's books
How you could make tragedies
Comical
Laughing for hours
On inside jokes we shared
How black Sundays
Weren’t black anymore…
How libraries are your favourite place
But you don’t even read
Anything much
Except my poetry
How my poetry
Is about you mostly
How you mostly
Never loved me
How love
Is a lie
How lies
Broke us
How you don’t seem broken
At all.

He's staring intently
                                                  at the task in hand
incomplete masterpiece
                                                 outlined (a deep black)
bitten lip;
                                                 - out of focus
I adoring His own
                                              magnum opus
hands;
ache to trace
                                             sharp jawline; a
defined collarbone-
                                            ridges and valleys
…..Gravitating back
                                           he holds it up for approval
dimpled smile;
                                               breaking dawn

                            "Perfect"
                     (hear myself whisper)
closer now, frozen tide
                                             a whiff of the ocean
                        tsunamis in my heart ; waves crashing

          (but I wasnt talking about the sketch)

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
hearts of gold, never to rust.

swallowtails aloft, flutterings better dead,
dampened by years of love left unsaid.

box of promises, vials of lies,
waves crashing within ocean eyes.

bloodied wrists, a scarlet letter
sealed envelope, unposted endeavour

eternal fairytale, lover and her muse,
destined to love yet scared to lose.

wilted bouquets, abandoned gardens,
memories burn while resolves harden.

etched in stars, writ in stone,
identity crisis, fate unknown.

Life's canvas, shades of grey,
dreams crumpled, hope led astray

stairways to Eris, rising only to fall
Lone poetess loving her Wonderwall